Obsessed
by xakemii
Summary: Certain wizards and witches obsess over certain Muggle objects. Snippets, in unrelated one-shots.
1. Draco Malfoy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter **

**Author's Note: Was written for the "Strange Obsessions" Challenge

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Draco Malfoy stared at himself in the mirror that was perched on his dresser. Without shifting his gaze, he dipped three fingers into the container beside him, scooping up the goo gleefully. Using his other hand, he reached for his comb, running it through his hair numerous amounts of time. After he was satisfied, he ran the goo though his silver locks. Draco narrowed his eyes at his reflection, moving the gel in different directions, hoping to style his flattened hair. He finally stopped, pleased with the finished product. Muggles might be stupid, but they did know a thing or two about hair product.

Pansy smirked, leaning against the doorframe. She had been watching as Draco for a while now, and was greatly entertained. She hadn't bothered to stop him, or let him know that she was there. _Huh_, she thought. _Thinks he's a great wizard, doesn't even know when someone's in his doorway_. The thought made her grin widen. Pansy quietly lifted her wand from her cloaks, thinking of the, what looked soft, goo that Draco had just finished slicking through his hair.

"_Duro_," she whispered, sniggering in delight as the gel hardened, almost immediately. Draco's hair looked worse than before, and he swung around to face Pansy. She stopped laughing, seeing the glimmer of anger that had flashed in his eyes. "What is it then?" she asked, sauntering into the room.

Draco eyed her carefully, as she circled him. He held the tub in his hands tightly, before finally handing it over. He couldn't tell her it was a muggle invention, she'd probably laugh in his face. So he had done the same thing he had done when his father had asked him, handing the tub of gel over in hope that they would come up with their own name for it. Pansy grimaced as she dipped her fingers in it, as she had seen Draco do moments before.

"Are you going to tell me then?" she snapped, wiping her hands on one of his shirts that had been lying on the floor. "I find it disgusting," she added, shuddering.

"Why'd you come here, Pansy?" Draco asked, avoiding her question. Pansy looked up at him, smiling lightly, before circling him once more.

"Can't a girl visit her boyfriend?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek, moving towards his dresser. She held the tub in one palm, while circling the rim with her index finger. "I don't suppose," Pansy whipped around to face him. "You have more?"

Draco gapped at her, wondering why on earth she had asked about a mere muggle invention. _Oh yes, she doesn't know that_, Draco thought bitterly. _Not yet, she's bound to figure it out_. He watched as she gazed imploringly at him, her brown eyes piercing into him. He shook his head hesitantly, seeing Pansy's face screw up in a manner that he had learned to recognize over the years, the face she was about to use when she either going to insult, or say something clever.

"Pity, you won't have any then," she said, screwing the lid she had found on his dresser. She tossed the tub in the air, catching it neatly in both hands, before putting it away within her robes. Draco opened his mouth to protest, and then clamped it shut. Pansy smirked, strutting out of his room with a quick wave.

"By the way," she popped her head back into his room momentarily. "You might want to fix your hair, Draco." She laughed loudly, in a way that reminded him of his Aunt Bellatrix. He sighed, sitting down on his bed.

He had found the hair gel in Diagon Alley one day; he had assumed some filthy mudblood had dropped it. His father hadn't seen it, so he had bent down and pocketed it quickly. On returning home with it, he had headed to his room immediately, eager to see what this muggle invention did. Draco was pleasantly surprised when he realized it was help style his hair, and had taken to using it often. After a couple of months, he was running low on this amazing muggle product, and it had resulted into him writing a letter to the mudblood, Hermione Granger. Writing the letter had been one of the harder jobs he had done over the holidays, but it had been necessary.

Hermione had been shocked when she read the letter from Draco, and had disregarded it for a while. She had come across it again when sifting through her study notes. She was even more surprised to find that he was asking a favour of her, to find him some 'hair gel.' She tipped the envelope, letting the twenty galleons fall into her hands. _He expects me to buy a muggle product with wizard money_, she raised her eyebrows at the thought. However, Hermione decided to humour Malfoy, and had bought some tubs for him. This continued for two years.

"Hey," Hermione didn't even look up at whoever had bumped into her.

"Granger," Draco clutched her arm. "Pansy took my hair gel."

"So?" Hermione laughed. "All of it?" Her humoured tone turned into shock. How much hair gel could a girl use? As far as she knew, girls usually used hair spray over hair gel. But what did she know about the habits of girls in the Wizarding World? Witches always did seem to have a different way of doing things.

"Just one tub," Draco whimpered. Hermione looked down at his pleading form, disgusted. Draco Malfoy, of all people, was begging. He was begging on his knees. _This is insane_, Hermione screamed in her mind. Malfoy was upset over one, pathetic small tub of hair gel.

"Then start a new tub," Hermione glanced hesitantly down at him. "You've got plenty to spare."

Draco stared after her as she walked away. How could the filthy mudblood refuse him? How dare she! He didn't bother going or calling after her, he was sick of grovelling. Instead, he turned around, racing towards the Slytherin common room. He arrived, panting the password, and streamed into the room. Barely taking any notice to the lazing Slytherins on couches, he made his way to his room. Draco immediately made his way towards his dresser, yanking at the bottom drawer. He cackled happily as the items came into sight. Small tubs of hair gel filled the drawer, soon about to be used.

Pansy stared at him from the doorway, her mouth wide open.

"You're obsessed," she muttered, throwing the tub she had taken before on his bed. Then, she ran for it.


	2. Hermione Granger

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Author's Note: Was written for the Obsessions Challenge

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Hermione Granger sat down in a compartment on the Hogwarts train. She had given up waiting for Harry and Ron, and instead decided to find an empty compartment before they had all been filled. She hesitated, watching all the wizards and witches passing her, before pulling out a muggle invention, sure to shock them. She rummaged through her bag, before finding what she was looking for. _Finally_, she thought to herself, as she pulled out her earphones. She hooked them up to her iPod quickly, before shoving the earpieces in her ear. Being satisfied with the fact that no one had seemed to have seen her, she leaned back in her seat, still waiting for her best friends to arrive. She didn't have to wait very long before the two boys came charging in the compartment. Hermione smiled at them both, pleased they had found her, before staring out the window.

Hermione didn't bother listening in on their conversation, and she was shocked to see Ron gaping at her after about twenty minutes after the train had set off.

"What's that?" Ron looked gobsmacked, pointing at the contraption that was hooked in her ears. Hermione shot Harry a look saying 'Please help me!' However, Harry simply shook his head, sniggering quietly.

"An iPod," she gave in. Hermione hated explaining muggle inventions to Ron. No matter how many times he complained about his father's uncanny fascination in muggle things, it was obvious that Ron took an interest in muggle inventions as well. "It plays music through these ear pieces."

Ron held his hand out, expecting Hermione to pass him an earpiece, he was interested, and wanted a closer look. He got quite the opposite reaction, however, and she slapped his hand away in shock.

"Never," she hissed. "Touch my iPod."

Harry glanced up at, jaw dropping. He wouldn't have described Hermione as a possessive girl, unless it came to her homework notes, and this seemed out of character. Hermione seemed to have noticed her rash behaviour, and had turned bright red. She tapped her fingers on the back of her iPod, waiting for someone to break the ice. Instead, Ron simply shrugged, and began to talk to Harry about his holiday.

For the first time in a long time, neither Harry nor Hermione had gone to the Burrow for the holidays. Ron had claimed that there was some 'family business' to be taken care of. Hermione had sent a few owls to both of her friends, but didn't get very many replies. Ron had never been big on writing, and only replied if she had sent him numerous letters in a row. Harry on the other hand, had troubles replying, as the Dursley's didn't let him let Hedwig out very often, if at all. Hermione was disappointed in the lack of her two best friend's replies, and had settled with owling Ginny and Luna over the holidays.

Hermione began humming along to her iPod, not worried about what Harry or Ron would think, though they were bound to have some opinions on it.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" Ron was still in shock from before.

"Humming," Hermione smiled wistfully. "It's a beautiful song."

"I think that," Ron struggled to remember the word. "Thing, has changed her, mate." Ron grinned at Harry, who grinned back at him, before flashing a smile at Hermione.

"Dudley's got one," Harry nodded at the iPod she was cradling. "Can I have a look?"

Hermione glanced hesitantly at him, before passing him her iPod, being careful not to drop it. She paused before letting go; whispering to Harry, "Don't hurt her."

"Her?" Ron scoffed, but muffled his laughter as Hermione glared him. Harry looked over it quickly, and handed it back to her, commenting on the engraving on the side. _I Love You_ was engraved clearly, and Hermione blushed, quickly covering it with her hand. She mumbled something under her breath, not quite letting her friends catch it. Ron's eyes twinkled deviously, before his hand whipped out, grabbing the item from her. Hermione gasped, letting out a squeal. Ron shook her away, rubbing his hand over the engraved words.

"Vicky give it to you?" He sneered, jokingly. Hermione blushed, shaking her head.

"My mother, actually," she replied. "I knew you'd think a boy gave it to me." Hermione smiled slightly, choking back a laugh. "Now give it back!"

Ron shrugged, passing it back to her. He watched her as she handled it gently, like you would with an egg, placing it in her lap. He was beginning to question whether she was telling the truth. If her mother had given it to her, why was she being so protective? Ron waited until she had placed the earphones back into her ears, and was quite sure she couldn't hear them.

"I say we take it when she falls asleep," Ron whispered to Harry. "She always falls asleep."

"Do you think we ought to?" Harry looked sceptical. "She seemed rather protective."

"Wouldn't you like to know why?"

"You could just ask," Harry replied, raising his eyebrows. "You know, like a normal person."

Ron rolled his eyes. "When has talking ever worked with Hermione?"

Harry reluctantly agreed, knowing that he would most likely regret it later on. Like Hermione, he often dozed off on the train to Hogwarts, but not this time. Ron just wasn't allowing it. He handed Harry a piece of gum, hoping that he would help keep him awake. Ron was quiet, which was surprising, and simply let his gaze drift around the compartment, while attempting to glance over at Hermione every now and again. _Why is she taking so long to get to sleep? _He screamed in his mind. He had always hated when Hermione and Harry fell asleep, and was frustrated that Hermione wasn't asleep yet. He guessed there was about half an hour left on the train, and there was no way they would be able to take the iPod from Hogwarts, considering boys weren't allowed up in the girl's dormitories.

Harry stifled a yawn, trying to avoid being hit awake by Ron again. His attempt was in vain, and Ron promptly hit him in the shoulder.

"She's asleep," Ron whispered. "You take that thing."

"Me?" Harry squeaked. "You wanted it!"

"Fine," Ron muttered, leaning over to see where exactly the iPod was. It was fitted loosely in her hand. Ron took in a deep breath, before slowly plucking the iPod from Hermione's grasp. "Got it!"

"Great," Harry said sarcastically. "Now what are you going to do with it?"

Ron flipped the object over in his hand, shrugging. He hadn't thought the plan through this far. Surely there was more of an indication of who had given it to her, other than the scratch on the side? _Harry lives with muggles_, Ron decided. _He'll know where to look_.

"Here," Ron chucked the iPod over to Harry. The iPod smashed to the ground, as Harry waved his limp hand, only half-listening. Ron gapped, knowing that Hermione would kill him. He reached over, picking up the broken pieces carefully. The back and front had become disconnected, as well as the screen having several cracks. _What's that spell again? Bloody hell, why don't I listen in class? _Ron was panicking. The train was bound to stop soon, and Hermione still had to get dressed into robes.

"What did you do!" Hermione screeched, leaping from her seat, towering over Ron. "Ronald, you better have a good explanation."

"I…" Ron decided to play his father's card. "Was curious."

Hermione grabbed the pieces from Ron's hand, glaring at him.

"_Reparo_," she muttered under her breath, seeming only half-satisfied as the pieces flew back together. "You git," she flung a final insult at Ron before she sauntered out to change into her robes.

"I hope you're happy," Harry sat up, having half-witnessed what had just happened.

"Well," Ron thought for a moment. "I was right."

"In saying what?"

"She's obsessed!"


	3. Luna Lovegood

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Author's Note: Shorter than the other two, because I found Luna's "obsession" harder to write about. Was written for the "Strange Obsessions" Challenge.

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The falling pieces of snow captivated Luna. The snow pieces, of course, were fake, and concealed by a small circle of glass surrounding it. Luna smiled, cupping the globe in the palms of her hand. She liked it. A simple shake would send the pieces flying everywhere. A snow globe. It wasn't very clever, but for a muggle object, it was brilliant. Luna looked over the panel over the Ravenclaw fireplace. Nobody else was in the common room, as the others tended to avoid her. So she was alone, a snow globe in one hand, while staring into the flames. Her smile slowly faded as people filed into the common room, not giving her a second glance.

She stood hastily; ready to leave, knowing that she was unwanted. Ripping her gaze from the fireplace and tightening her grip on the snow globe, she left. Luna didn't have many friends, except perhaps Ginny Weasley, in Gryffindor. The thought of knocking on the Fat Lady's portrait frightened her slightly, and she decided against her original plain, and instead browsed the halls of Hogwarts.

"Luna! Wait up!" Luna whipped around to see a fiery-headed girl sprinting towards her. Luna smiled at her friend, pausing by the corner.

"Hello," she greeted. Ginny smiled up at her friend. True, Luna was different than others, and at sometimes, rather odd. But when it came to it, she was a loyal friend. She enjoyed spending time with her, as she was a very understanding girl, and though it was sometimes cryptic, her advice was very good.

"What are you holding?" Ginny asked, gesturing towards the object that Luna was still clutching at.

"Hermione gave it to me as a Christmas gift," she explained. Luna remembered opening the gift happily. She had been surprised that Hermione had given her a gift for Christmas. Luna delicately ripped the blue paper, only to stare in wonder at the small globe in a box. Hermione had shrugged nervously, not knowing whether the look on Luna's face was joy or disgust. However, Luna smiled happily, giving Hermione a hug.

Ginny glanced hesitantly down at Luna's hands, not sure whether to question what it actually was, or whether to ignore it, and move on.

"And it would be, what, exactly?"

"A snow globe," Luna murmured in reply. She patted the globe tenderly, ignoring the strange look that Ginny was now flinging at her. _Of course_, the facts clicked in Ginny's mind. _Hermione gave it to her, a muggle object_. She smiled lightly, and then muttered something about quidditch, before strutting away. Luna looked after her wistfully, before looking back at the snow globe smiling.

She had been walking around for hours before she finally made her way back to the Ravenclaw common room. No one turned around, as she stepped in, not that she looked anyone in the eye anyway. Luna wandered upstairs, heading towards her dormitory. Luna entered the room, immediately dropping to her knees beside her bed. She scrimmaged around under the bed for a while, before finally resurfacing. A small shoebox was now in her hands, she opened the lid, smiling wistfully down at the bubble wrap. She carefully placed her snow globe, making sure the wrap cuddled the glass protectively.

"I believe I am rather taken with snow globes," she whispered quietly to herself, before slipping under the covers.


	4. Oliver Wood

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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Oliver Wood was a quidditch fanatic; you didn't have to be a genius to figure that much out. Never mind being a genius, simply try being in the same room with him for a few minutes. It was this reason that caused the Gryffindor quidditch team's mouths to drop wide open in shock when he called off practise. It wasn't a dreary day in the slightest, and everyone was in good moods and everyone knew that Harry had fixed his dementor issues.

Alicia, having known Oliver for years, disregarded her fellow teammates and wrapped her arm protectively around his shoulder. He gazed down at her, questioning her actions.

"Let's get you to the hospital wing," Alicia murmured, dead serious. "Where'd you hurt?"

"Alicia!" he exclaimed, realizing her the motive in her antics. "I'm fine, I've just…" he trailed off. "Been working you too hard?" It came out as more of a question, and it sounded rather lame, to be honest. Alicia rolled her eyes, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders and directing him towards the portrait hole. Angelina and Katie soon joined in, helping him towards the hospital wing.

"Stop!" yelled Oliver, pushing the three away from him. "I'm fine, honestly." He cast a glare over the three of them, before leaving in a huff. He trailed up the stairs, leaving the three girls gaping after him. Fred and George, forever seeing the humorous side of things, were beside themselves in laughter. Harry had left earlier, pleased that practise had been called off. A silencing screech made the twins quickly gather their senses, looking solemnly at the girls. Angelina and Katie gave a quiet sigh, recognizing the scheming gleam in Alicia's eye, but listened intently as she talked them through her master plan.

Oliver, after sprinting up the rest of the staircase, had retreated to the solitude of his room, slamming the door loudly behind him. It was true, he was a quidditch boy. At least, he thought it was true. He muttered angrily at himself, before pulling a large black case out from under his bed. He let his fingers graze lightly over the buckle before flipping it open without a second thought. What would the team do if they found out? They would probably make fun of him. Fancy that, Oliver Wood wanting to do something other than quidditch. Hell! Oliver Wood doing something that didn't involve quidditch at all! To everyone else, the thought was almost unthinkable.

Oliver let his fingers strum over the strings, pulling the guitar into his lap. He sat there for a moment, simply strumming up and down, not really making an effort to play. A smile crossed his face, and he muddled around a bit, before finally playing a song he had taught himself a few years ago. This was his secret. Guitars were a muggle instrument; he wouldn't have been surprised if half of Hogwarts hadn't heard of them. It wasn't because of that that he had kept his hobby on the down low. It was more to do with image. If people knew that he played the guitar in his free time, his image would be shattered. No one would take him seriously when it came to quidditch anymore; that he was sure of.

He let his thoughts float away as he strummed against the strings, not hearing the footsteps behind him.

"Oliver?" Alicia's astonished tone echoed around the room. Oliver jumped, his guitar slipping from his grasp as he spun around angrily.

"Alicia. Get out."

Her look of wonder turned into a wide grin, as she noticed the large instrument; now lying on the floor. She held her ground, though purposely avoiding his dark glare.

"Alicia," Oliver snapped warningly. "Out."

"No," she replied, whining. "Play me something."

"Alicia," he repeated her name for the third time. She was almost getting sick of hearing it, and had an uncanny desire to shut him up. She smirked, reaching out to grasp the instrument. Not for the first time, Oliver's keeper instincts kicked in, knocking her hand swiftly out of the way.

"What's wrong?" Alicia smirked. She knew what was wrong. She had known Oliver for almost her whole life, and knew when he was protective over something. Though the 'something' was usually along the lines of his broom, or latest quidditch book, the signs were always the same. Cancelling quidditch though; that was an insane move coming from him. "Come on," Alicia coaxed him. "Play me a song."

"You know what it is?" Oliver stared at her, gaping. Alicia was a pureblood, so wasn't expected to know the way of the muggles.

"A guitar," she laughed. "I took muggle studies last year. Now play." She commanded him easily, taking full control of his obviously vulnerable state.

Oliver sighed, knowing that this was a battle that he wasn't likely to win. Alicia had a way of getting what she wanted, whether her heart was in it or not. He still hesitated though, the laughter that was bound to come from her was echoing around his mind. His hesitation faltered under her gaze, and he pulled the laptop into his lap. His eyes fluttered close, and he began to play.

Alicia kept her expression calm, even though she was ecstatic inside. Even though she had accepted Oliver's uncanny obsession with quidditch, it annoyed her to the bone sometimes. Actually, it hadn't annoyed her when she was younger, just now, when she was in the same quidditch team as him, with the insane practise times. Oliver was surprisingly good; Alicia couldn't imagine when he had found the time to practise.

"Can I have a go?" Alicia asked, suddenly feeling somewhat bold. Oliver dropped the guitar hastily, holding it by the head and moving in front of the instrument in a protective manner. The smile dropped from her face, and she cast her eyes downward. Oliver faltered, his instincts escaping him for the moment. He didn't notice the wicked gleam in Alicia's eye as she whipped around, stepping behind him, and grasping the guitar tightly in her two hands. Realizing his mistake, Oliver's jaw was tight and his eyes narrowed.

"Drop it, Spinnet," he told her firmly, though his voice favered as he said her last name.

"Oooh, Wood," Alicia sung teasingly. "A little protective, are we?" She smirked, tugging at the guitar a little more. It was only a little bit; but it was enough to provoke him, and a growl slipped out from his mouth.

"Spinnet..." Oliver's tone was warning.

"Don't growl at me, Woods."

"Then let go."

"Never," Alicia was back to teasing. She wasn't frightened of Oliver, she had known him far too long to even consider being afraid him. "Let me play."

"'Licia..." The way he said it was close to a whine. She felt a pang of sympathy for him; the way she was trying to force him to do something that he definitely did not want to abide to. It reminded her of when they were little, and Oliver had just gotten his first broom. She had tried to get him to let her ride it at one stage, but he had furiously denied her the option to. She sighed, giving up and dropping her hands to side. He looked shocked at her sudden surrender, but pleased all the same.

"Must be pretty great if you're giving up quidditch for it," said Alicia, collapsing onto his bed.

He looked up at her, a queer expression on his face. "I'm not giving up quidditch for the guitar."

"You cancelled practice today," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows to reinforce the point. "It's not that bad," Alicia added, swinging her legs against the bed. "I haven't seen you so obsessed about something since your first broom."

"Well come on then, Spinnet," Oliver sighed, pushing the instrument safetly under his bed again. "Since cancelling practice has clearly caused you some trauma, it's back on. You've got ten minutes to get to the field. Tell the others, will you?"

Alicia sighed, pushing herself off the bed to go spread the news. It was likely that she would hit with a few bludgers, as she couldn't see either of the twins feeling to pleased with her after getting practice rescheduled. Nor could she see Harry being to pleased with her, after seeing his happy face when he had found out the practice had been cancelled. Hopefully Angelina and Katie would be happier than the others, and might even succeed in making practice fun. Alicia thought of the infuriated look on Oliver's face when she had placed her hands on his precious guitar. _Unlikely_, she muttered in her mind, preparing herself for one hell of practice. Oliver Wood and obsessions was a dangerous thing, especially when Alicia Spinnet got involved.

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**Author's Note: This one wasn't so involved with the actual object of obsession, but I figured if Oliver ever put anything before quidditch, he had to be pretty obsessed, right? (: I'm running low on ideas at the moment, suggestions would be lovee. Check the poll on my profile, please? At the moment, I'm writing a Gabrielle Delacour, Hugo Weasley and George Weasley. I'm mainly tossing some ideas around though. Gabrielle's will be up in a day or so, and Hugo's and George's will be up when I get around to completing them. Seriously though, ideas would be amazing. Objects, people, whatever. **

**Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed it, and sorry for this annoying note... I never did like long ones. So on that note, till next time!**

**x - Kimberley**


	5. Gabrielle Delacour

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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Gabrielle, like her sister, Fleur, had been raised _properly_. Though their father was a kind-hearted man, their mother had rather strict, perhaps obscene, views on how her daughters were to be raised. Her expectations for the two of them were to become true ladies: prim and proper.

Gabrielle had observed her older sister as she grew up. Despite being the spitting image of her mother, Fleur was indeed different. Fleur formed her own independent views as she grew, becoming a very strong-willed girl and a very talented witch. Yes, somewhere in her heart she managed to dig up the love for clothing, and often dressed to her mother's expectations, though that was probably as far as she went. The arguments between Fleur and her mother often became heated, and Gabrielle found herself floating into the background.

The siblings themselves were close; there was no denying that. Fleur was quick to look out for her little sister, and Gabrielle never pushed her away, enjoying the company. It was easy at Beauxbatons, the school they both attended. Fleur was free to be herself, and Gabrielle was free to just be girl.

"We vill leave tomorrow!" Madame finished announcing, her cries being drowned out by the excited chattering of students.

The TriWizard Tournament had just been announced. Amongst the chatter, Gabrielle cast a worried glance to where Fleur was seated. Fleur was one of the brighter students, and a shoe-in for the Cup. Surely though, she wouldn't consider it. The Cup was insane. The challenges were worse. In other words, it was right up Fleur's alley. A sickly feeling filled Gabrielle's stomach as chanting began to fill the room. Numerous names were being called out, and Gabrielle strained her ears to try and catch whom the school would be vouching for. Hearing Fleur's name being cried from a large selection of students was enough to make Gabrielle bolt from the room.

She laid her down on the lush grass, staring up at the blue sky. No one had bothered following her. She probably would have been surprised if the had even realized she was gone. A monarch butterfly fluttered near her, causing a smile to tweak at the corners of her mouth. She loved butterflies, she always had. Gabrielle laughed happily at the childhood memories the small insects had helped her create.

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_Flashback_

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Gabrielle, at the age of five years old, ran through the meadow after her older sister. She screeched, begging that Fleur slow down. The older girl giggled, but gave in, resting by the fence.

"Look," Fleur pointed out a colourful insect that was flying by. "A butterfly."

Gabrielle's eyes widened in wonder, and she immediately began chasing after the poor thing. Her attempts were in vain, and the butterfly deftly dodged the child's flailing arms and outstretched fingers.

"Papa 'as a catcher," Fleur told Gabrielle, hoping to stop her frantic leaping in the air.

"Pardon?" Fleur's tactic worked, and Gabrielle had stopped almost immediately, turning to her. A light smile graced Fleur's mouth as she explained the concept of a butterfly net. She mimed someone capturing a butterfly, before collapsing in a fit of giggles.

"Zis way," Fleur clasped her sister's hand, dragging her towards the shed that had remained untouched for many months. Gabrielle let out a delighted squeal as Fleur reappeared, holding the net proudly in her hands.

"Mama vould not approve," Gabrielle said doubtfully, glance wistfully at the net, and then to Fleur, who simply shrugged, setting off for the meadow once more. After casting a final glance backwards at the house, where their mother was sure to be, Gabrielle smiled gleefully following her sister's footsteps.

"Me!" screamed Gabrielle, jumping high, trying to grasp the pole in her tiny hands. Fleur laughed, plopping down on the grass and handing the net over She watched contently as Gabrielle whipped around and started to chase every butterfly in sight. She leapt around wildly, only to stopping when an angry yell sounded.

"Vat is zis?!"

"Mama…" Gabrielle looked sheepishly up at her mother. The older woman looked enraged, and held out a flat palm, expecting the pole to be thrust in to her hand at any moment. Gabrielle shook her head though, and clutched the catcher to close her chest. "Non, Mama."

"Gabrielle!"

"Je suis desolee, Mama," Gabrielle apologized, though made no move to even suggest the she was thinking of returning the object. Fleur watched nearby, captivated by curiosity. She had never before seen Gabrielle defy their mother. Even their mother looked shocked, withdrawing her had as if it had been burnt.

"Aie!" Mrs. Delacour cried, before soundly slapping Gabrielle on the cheek and staggering back towards the house. Fleur gasped, but remained silent until her mother had gone, and then she appeared out of the long grasses, immediately sprinting towards her sister. She fussed over the red mark that was forming on Gabrielle's cheek. The younger girl simply stared into the distance, as if the slap had never occurred.

""and it 'ere," Fleur said gently, grasping the other end of the pole, and tugging slightly. "I vill put it back."

Gabrielle shook her in reply, biting hard on her to lip to hold in the tears. The look on face was had to describe, and undoubtedly one that Fleur hadn't seen before. Instead of sweet innocence, a protective, almost mad look gleamed in Gabrielle's eyes. Fleur felt a pang of annoyance it her. It was bad enough to have Gabrielle flouncing around outdoors, let alone keeping the net. Her mother would blame her; that she was sure of.

"Gabrielle," Fleur said pleadingly, only faltering slightly when she caught sight of the pleading gaze in Gabrielle's eyes. She sighed, relenting. She would be in for it when they went back into the house, but the sight of Gabrielle's face lighting up, happily gripping the butterfly catcher might just be worth it.

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_End Flashback_

* * *

Gabrielle jumped as a hand landed on her shoulder, and she tore her gaze from the butterfly, turning to face her sister.

"Gabrielle," Fleur said softly, sitting next to her on the grass. "I vill enter."

"I know," Gabrielle whispered.

"Butterflies?" she laughed, watching as the monarch fluttered away from the pair. "Do you still 'ave zat net?" Fleur smiled fondly at the memory.

A delicate blush developed on Gabrielle's cheeks as she nodded.

"You used to 'ide it under ze bed," Fleur commented thoughtfully. "I alvays thought you liked it too much."

Gabrielle shrugged. "I vas obsessed."

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to get this up! So much for a couple of days, eh? Right, sorry if any attempts at French are incorrect, and same with the attempt of adding the French accent in. Like the Oliver's one, this didn't really focus on the obsession itself. Sorry! Next time, I promise ;)**


	6. Albus Dumbledore

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

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Albus Dumbledore, as many of you will know, was a very serious man. His time was devoted to keeping Harry alive and trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle that was Voldemort. Of course, he was also a man of many secrets. He kept to himself, despite his fame, and not many knew how he spent his time alone.

It was a certain bushy-haired, bossy, young girl that found out the secrets of Albus Dumbledore. Some say that it was bound to be her; she was the brightest of her age, after all. Others say she found out by chance.

Both are wrong. Hermione Granger was told and shown by the great wizard himself. That's all there was to it.

"Professor," Hermione said hesitantly. She was in awe of the headmaster, and hated to speak out of turn, but there were some times when her curiosity simply got the better of her. "If you don't mind me asking…what on earth are you doing?"

To Hermione's dismay, the professor didn't even so much look at her. He simply continued to stare at the small multi-coloured box in his hands, his usually twinkling eyes narrowed in frustration. She was contemplating asking him again, thinking that he must not have heard her, when she was pulled from her thoughts by a loud slamming noise. Her eyes widened and her back snapped upright.

"Are you quite alright?" she cried loudly, before adding quickly, "Professor."

"No, Miss Granger." Dumbledore looked furious as he glared down at the cube that he had slammed onto his wooden desk. "But I believe you can help me with my dilemma."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Hermione nodded eagerly. It was usually Harry that Dumbledore called on and she felt rather honored to have called up to his office. When a few of the students had briefly asked her if she was in trouble, she had briefly considered the absurd idea. Of course she wasn't in trouble. She was _never _in trouble.

That, however, doesn't mean to say she didn't feel relieved to know that she wasn't.

"This," Dumbledore gestured wildly towards the object of his interest, "I'm afraid, is impossible."

Hiding a giggle as she cast her eyes down to see the offending object, Hermione replied, "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm fairly certain that it is not—"

"It is!" he exclaimed loudly, causing her to jump back in fright. "You see this lines under my eyes? They're bags, Miss Granger. Bags!"

"I… I know, sir."

"Do you know what they are from? Lack of sleep! I was busy fiddling around with this…this insolent obje—"

"Rubix cube," Hermione interjected, slightly amused by the Professor's outburst. "It's called a rubik's cube, sir."

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore readily agreed. "And you were saying before that you believe that it is possible to complete?"

"Oh, sir, it's entirely possible. You see, there's a tric—"

"So you're sure it's possible?" the headmaster interrupted, tossing the rubix cube from side to side with a new interest, the twinkle in his eyes slowly returning. "Miss Granger, this rubik's cube...it can be solved?"

And because she'd never pass by on a chance to get in the headmaster's good graces, she said, "Yes, sir. If you would like, I could help you."

Professor Dumbledore, however, dismissed her with a flick of his hand. And dejected, Hermione walked out of his office feeling put out, if not a little confused.

She'd never known Dumbledore to call a student up to his office for such a trivial matter. And she'd never known anyone to be dismissed like _that_.

Hermione Granger, smart girl that she was, figured it out.

The rubik's cube.

He must've been obsessed.


End file.
